


"The nail that sticks out gets hammered"

by Vodka20 (Cirilla9)



Category: The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sorry Not Sorry, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 08:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Vodka20
Summary: A little different take on how Takashi could tell Sean to stay away from his girl.





	"The nail that sticks out gets hammered"

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because Morimoto is the best unimportant character in this movie and there are too few fics about him. Also, this hyperactive kid obviously wants to bang the main character. So here it is: 
> 
> (Leave now if you're not a fan of him.)

Sean was walking down the school corridor, by some miracle not late at the lessons after the lunch break, when he was pushed hard at the row of lockers. His bag slid from his shoulder at the impact. His attacker held him pressed to the cool metal, standing too close to him, invading his intimate space more than it was needed. Actually at this point, with the aggressor pressed flush to his back, it was obviously rather a hindrance for a good grip.

“I’ve got a message for you from the D.K.,” said a jeering voice in his ear, confirming Sean’s guess of who it was.

He tried to crane his neck to look Morimoto in the face but the Japanese held him too firmly in place. For all that his movements seemed uncoordinated, they were disturbingly effective.

“Have I mentioned already you should think of changing that nick? Deekay sounds a lot like dicky, don’t you think?”

In answer his head was smashed in the lockers. He felt his lip splitting on a sticking out part and taste of blood assaulted his mouth.

“Shut up and listen, gaijin. Takashi wants you stay away from the girl.”

The grip on his scruff loosened slightly. Morimoto didn’t demand acquiescence from him. Perhaps it would have ended that way, without any further consequences. Perhaps the blonde would just walk away after fulfilling his task. If Sean was smart, if he let that slip, it could have ended just like that. But Sean was never the one to listen to reason when there was danger and adrenaline waiting ahead.

He turned his head to look at his nemesis and smiled at him through his bloodied teeth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stated unconcernedly.

Morimoto was fully back at him in a second, moving as always too quickly and quietly to notice it until his fist was punching you in the face or his elbow nudging in the side. Sean was grounded once more onto the lockers, he gasped this time.

“No?” spat a voice straight to his ear. He could almost feel Morimoto’s lips at the shell, not just the hot of his breath. “Then I’ll show you what I mean.”

The next moment Sean was hauled backward, his schoolbag dropped completely to the floor, books fell out. He used the movement to throw himself at the Japanese, intending to push him off balance, but the blonde was ready for that, stepped swiftly one step further and Sean’s impetus was lost. Worse, strong arms embraced him from behind, pinning his biceps to his sides, restricting his movements considerably.

Sean, with accompaniment of trashing and cursing from both parties, was dragged toward an unknown destination. The ring rang and thus his chance of arriving at lessons in time was wasted.

Too focused on trying to throw off his attacker, he noticed the bathroom doors only seconds between it hit him in the arm painfully.

“With that reflex you have no chance of overriding Takashi,” Morimoto laughed at his neck.

“We’ll see about that,” gritted Sean. “For now it’s enough I could win with you with my eyes closed.”

“Did I hit you that hard in the skull? You’re delusional.”

Inside the bathroom someone flushed the toiled. Sean saw Morimoto’s reflection in the mirror snarl before the Japanese, without loosening his hold on him, kicked the door to the said toiled viciously.

“Out!” he cried.

The door opened, revealing another boy with mouth half open to backtalk. Then he noticed who it was that had shouted at him and he snapped his mouth shut, retreating silently from the yakuza business. It never ceased to amaze Sean how quickly they all could turn deaf and blind here when Takashi’s group-playing-mafia was at something.

Then he was pushed so hard that he had landed on the floor and his train of thoughts was lost.

He flipped onto his back and started to raise only to meet with a boot that he was sure was too solid for the regular inside-the-school shoes. He would have smirked at the memory of his first school day and the _wabaki_ if he wasn’t too occupied with the fight.

At the next coming blow, he grabbed Morimoto’s leg at the ankle and pulled hard, managing to yank the other youth down as well. He jumped toward his opponent, using his short advantage to the fullest.

They locked in a grip and rolled through the tiled floor for a moment, each dealing fist blows in the other’s body, each trying to get an upper hand.

Sean heard the rush of blood in his ears. It wasn’t as good as the roar of the engine when he rode but it was almost second best as the adrenaline kicked in.

When he felt the other guy raising up he thought that was his chance of winning. He went after it like he would if someone had made a mistake during a car race. But instead of being the first to the end line, he was thrown at the sink unexpectedly, felt his head connect with the marble and slid to the floor, stunned for a moment.

Everything seemed more quiet and slowed down, images blurred, sensations weakened. He was dimly aware of Morimoto’s hands at his hips but it took him a great while to realize the other’s intentions.

His trousers were yanked down his hips and he was flipped onto his stomach. He shook his head to clear it.

“What are you doing?”

Morimoto leaned down with one hand pressing at Sean’s shoulder blades.

“Explaining you the message.” Morimoto fumbled with his own zipper and Sean felt the beginnings of a real fear creeping into his consciousness. “In a way even such a daft as you should understand. This is what you aren’t allowed to do to Neela.”

Upon saying this, Morimoto’s other hand touched Sean’s buttocks, fingers slid between then _into_ his entrance. Sean shivered and trashed and bit down a cry.

“No, no, no,” he stuttered. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

“You crying already, cowboy?” mocked Morimoto, not retreating his fingers at all but twisting them viciously. “Too early. Wait for the real ride to begin first.”

“No, hey, seriously. We could, ah!, make it up somehow. How about a car race or-”

The madman at his back laughed crazily.

“We’re making out.”

“Just how bad is your English?!” snapped Sean, not amused in the slightest and instantly regretted it as another finger was forced into him. “Fuck, stop it, you psycho!”

“Now, no calling names or I’ll lost patience with you. I’m nice for now, see? I can even make it better if you’ll be good.”

With that words Morimoto reached up for something at the sinks. Sean seized the occasion momentarily and upped himself but only got so far as to his knees when the Japanese, quick like a fucking ninja, was back at his back. Literally.

“How considerate of you to present yourself so nicely for me,” sneered Morimoto and Sean realized that his heroic action made his ass raise in the air, as if in offering to his nemesis. He rushed to fix his mistake but Morimoto’s hand snaked under his hips, preventing it.

“Stay like that,” the voice could be comforting if not a note of ice sounding just underneath, spoiling it like a loose gas cap would spoil an otherwise perfect tune of a wholesome engine.

The fingers assaulted Sean again but this time they went smoother, slicked with something… liquid soap, he realized and almost laughed hysterically at all the prison jokes that came to his mind.

“I can make it good for you,” Morimoto emphasized his words by putting a hand on Sean’s cock and giving it an experimental stroke.

With shame coloring his cheeks bright red, Sean felt himself reacting to the madman’s caress. Morimoto was still talking to him and even though Sean didn’t look at him he could hear the grin in his voice and imagine quite well all the stupid faces the other was pulling.

“See? You like that, ahaha,” the rest of the sentence drowned in a crazy giggle.

Far more concerning than the yakuza boy’s usual ADHD behavior was the fact that his restless hand working on Sean’s cock brought effect. Strong effect, he acknowledged reluctantly in his head, biting his lip to not to moan in wanton. The fingers in his ass were distracting but not so much to distort the pleasure.

Sean trashed in effort to shake Morimoto off his back and he thought he did succeed as the fingers left him finally. He realized his own mistake only as something bigger pressed at him.

“N-no,” he gasped but Morimoto, of course, wasn’t giving a fuck of what he was saying and Sean felt the unpleasant, weird sensation of being penetrated. He opened his mouth to scream but his violator’s hand was there immediately, gagging him. Sean bit down vindictively and Morimoto shouted but didn’t take back his hand or pulled out his cock. Still, it gave the tiniest satisfaction to think the psycho would bear his teeth mark for days.

Sean feel the burn where Morimoto was. The invasion wasn’t even hurting as badly as it just felt really weird, unnatural, like something was forced into him that definitely shouldn’t be there. How were girls dealing with that?

He only realized Morimoto was still until now when the Japanese spoke up playfully.

“You good? Ready for a ride?”

Sean growled at him, regretting the palm was still clasping his jaw, but he thought the mumbled ‘fuck you’ was recognizable.

Morimoto laughed and his hips moved back and forth. Sean closed his eyes, determined to endure. And get his revenge later. Somehow. He would think up how exactly.


End file.
